The Chosen Family

Last week, we celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary.  The Wednesday before, his submissive was injured badly but nothing critical and was hospitalized.  He was vigilant to her bedside Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.  Saturday and Sunday we stayed at home.  Not much happened.  Monday, was our anniversary.  I had only gotten him a card.  A simple one with a small message that I'm sure didn't give much hope to us working this out.  He in return, gave me nothing.  No card, no gift.  Second year in a row for no gift.  Does any of this sound familiar?

As I sat on the couch beside him, he said he thought we should go to the beach.  I accept the offer and we spontaneously jumped in the car and went.  It took me awhile to relax with him.  But this type of spontaneous is what I have been missing and so I began to enjoy myself.  We drove to Seaside along Hwy 30.  Had Mexican food for lunch, and then walked out to look at the ocean for about 30 minutes before heading back to the car.  We hadn't been to Seaside since the night after our last therapist meeting together, when he told me he needed to check in with his sub because he hadn't told her where he was going.  There's a blog post about that somewhere in here.

Down Hwy 101 we drove through the day.  At Manzanita beach we stopped and walked out onto the sand.  There, we sat against a log, watching the beauty of the beach, the ocean, and trying to hold on.  Back in the car, we continued to drive, finally hitting Lincoln City.  It was getting late and we needed dinner.  As we searched for a place to eat, he asked me what I wanted to do.  I said I wanted to get a hotel room overlooking the ocean, have dinner, and stay the night at the beach (something I've wanted for quite some time).  We booked a room at The Inn At Spanish Head, a resort hotel on the beach.  We dined on the 10th floor, overlooking the ocean.  It was comfortable.

I asked him that night in the hotel room, what might happen if/when his submissive and her husband were no longer.  How she would rely on him to be the one and only solice for her.  He told me he couldn't take on that role.  I wanted to believe him.

The next morning, she was to go into surgery.  He texted with her until she was scheduled to go under.  And we headed home.  He had a lesson in the evening.  Then, he went to the hospital to be there when his sub got out of surgery.

Wednesday, he texted me about her status, and I tried to be supportive.  I had not said anything against his need to be at her bedside.  I just let it go.  Wednesdsay night at 2:30am my phone rang.  It was his submissive.  Crying uncontrollably and asking for my husband.  I gave him the phone.  She had run out of pain meds and the nurses were getting the orders to give more.  She was in pain, I understand that.  But what happened next, I cannot think anyone would be ok with.  My husband asked me if he could get out of our bed at 3am to go be with his submissive in the hospital.  If I had said no, then once again, I am the monster,, the villian, the wicked which of the west.  He would have laid there feeling resentful and she would have demonized me to all of the community for something she herself would not have allowed to happen to her.  Where was her husband, her family?  I know the pain was great, but to call someone elses husband in the middle of the night to come be with you in the hospital, where there are people to take care of you, and it isn't like they are going to let you sit there all night without pain medication.  This is an example of the disrespect I have been shown throughout the affair.

Yes, that is how I view it.  It turned from a D/s relationship with the primary relationship being our marriages, to an affair.  I do not condone the affair, I don't even like it, but it is something that he will refuse to change and that is his choice.  He will be the one who has to live with his choices.

The rest of the week, he was in her hospital room every night.  She was to go home over the weekend and so he stayed home as well.  Already disconnected from him in order to preserve some portion of dignity and to keep from throwing glass objects at him, I remain quiet.

In Darkness

Darkened creatures from Outer Space,

pain that turns your blood to paste.

The inner you that shreds apart,

from you to them a new life starts.

And ashes lie where once there was love,

the clouds of others turn above.

A wind of change is coming through,

your last breath wishes for safe and new.

You’ve joined the creatures with blackened hearts,

they too feel when sorrow starts.

And feed upon any light that tries,

as hopes and dreams and forever dies.

Well THAT Didn't Help

Last night we went to cow sorting.  He had been overly attentive all day long via text.  That is the norm for after an argument when he has been neglecting me.  But its forced and I feel it.   Just like when he has sex with me after I tell him I can't live without affection.  It happens once, maybe twice if I'm lucky.  Imagine that.  Considering myself lucky just because my husband has sex with me.  Yea, I know, pretty fucking pitiful.

Anyway, we got to the sorting late and there wasn't our normal parking area available so he chose to park next to his submissives trailer.  Not that we couldn't have parked over on the other side or at least farther away from her trailer, but like so close my horse could have kicked out and busted her side mirror (hmmmmm).

Anyway, when we are all the way across the lot, I can have that space between she and I where I can get away when I can't stand the sight of her face or the sound of her annoying voice.  Parked right next to her, really?  Nice incensitivity.

So yea, I was pretty upset.  My horse was acting stupid.  I really had a sucky time.

I really need to just stop going.

Traditions Old and New

I’ve never had many traditions in my life growing up.  We had one thing I remember, and that was our Christmas stockings.  They were those long white old fashioned sock stockings that seemed to stretch sideways with no limitations.  I remember boxes of crayons, matchbox cars, a roll of scotch tape, an egg of silly putty.   A candy cane, carmels, and hard squigly candies that came with a coating of lint from the stocking.  A jawbreaker bigger than my mouth, brightly colored sweedish gummy fish from Newberrys, and at the very bottom, a large juicy ripe Orange.

Also, there was The Cinnamon Bear radio show.  5 days a week, starting on Thanksgiving evening, we would sit quietly for 30 minutes and listen to Jimmy and Judy and PaddyO Cinnamon chase the Crazy Quilt Dragon looking for their silver star to place atop the Christmas Tree.

And on the dark side, every summer, the lady on the end would get into a fight with her new boyfriend, they would come crashing through the screen door, out onto the front lawn, where they would fight and she would end up stabbing him.

I know, not the faery tale life, but then again, I don't have one now either.

I created traditions in our childrens lives so that they would have something special to remember.  I attempted to bring all that was shared with me about my husband life growing up, the traditions they had into the lives of our children as well.  What they remember or liked about any of those traditions, may be seen in years to come if they themselves carry on with those same traditions or if they bring them into the lives of their own children.  Yes, one day, I would love to have grandchildren.

But this post isn’t about those traditions. It’s about the feelings I am having watching what traditions my husband and I shared together, slowly disintegrate and drift away.  Little by little, there is nothing left.  And while he is the one making these decisions, there is a part of me that also blames his submissive for her part in all of this.  Right or wrong, it’s how I feel, so fucking deal with it, because I have to.

I have struggled to maintain some sort of normalcy in our lives since we decided to open our marriage and allow love, sex, and non monogamous interactions with others.  I always thought that the examples I was setting, would be seen as a doorway of how to do things properly.  If I was doing something in those examples that was wrong, it certainly was not communicated to me.  The rules that we set forth TOGETHER would have no problem being followed simply because they were agreed upon by both of us.  I was so fucking naïve.

When our children left home many asked what would we do now that we had an empty house.  I wasn’t worried because we shared so much, I thought.  We had the horses, we loved bull riding, and went to the rodeo every year.  We wanted to camp.  There was so much ahead for us.

Now, he doesn’t hardly ride his horse except for Sorting and trails if we go camping.  Now, I find myself camping alone for 2 nights because he had no priority of his marriage and would not reschedule a weekly playdate in order to maintain our tradition of our Friday/Saturday/Sun camping trips.  Now I find myself going to the Ross Coleman Invitational alone on Friday night, because again, his playdate is more important than the traditions in our marriage.  Yes, this makes me angry beyond belief.  Yes, it makes me sad as well.  And yes, it makes letting him go that much easier for every tradition, every holiday, everything that he shows he cares less and less about, including me.

I will say, we did go to the 4^th of July rodeo at St Paul this year and we did see the bull riding event in St Paul so there were 2 things we were able to hold onto for now.  I don’t hold much hope though.  Not if I’m truthful with myself.

Now, I find myself creating my own traditions.  I will have to make my own arrangements to continue to do the things I enjoy doing, that we enjoyed doing together, but that I find he doesn’t find as important anymore.  I find that the only person I should rely on, is going to be me.  I was a fool for believing it could be any other way.